Life and Times in 1969
by nanayoung
Summary: After all the things they've faced, you'd think living out their lives in 1969 would be easy. But then again, they never had to deal with gossiping neighbors, 1960's social conventions, marriage counseling, cults, police, and world destroying aliens, all the while remaining inconspicuous and pretending to be a normal married couple. "Well... there's a first time for everything."


**The New Neighbors**

There were times where the Doctor wondered why he kept moving from place to place and never settled down.

Certainly a lot of problems wouldn't have happened had he stayed with his companions instead of insisting they travel with him all the time. It wasn't like it would be too much of a bother in the first place anyway. Trouble always had a habit of finding him one way or another. And he always prided himself on finding adventure where ever it may be found. At least that way his companions wouldn't have to leave everything just to travel with him.

And he wouldn't have angry parents chasing after him like last time. Or get slapped in the face by angry mothers. Or face child endangerment charges. Or kidnapping charges. Or his companions' homesickness.

Why didn't he do this sooner?

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

Oh yeah, that's why.

"Never thought I would be hiding in my own home from nosy neighbors," the Doctor muttered. He was pushing the pieces of the timey-whimey detector under the couch while stuffing his tools into his trans-dimentional pockets.

"Well its _your _fault," Martha retorted. Her voice was slightly strained as she pushed the _really heavy_ Time Lord equipment into the bathroom. She didn't bother asking how he fit all of this junk into his pockets. He would probably just spout a bunch of techno-babble that would make her feel stupid.

"_My _fault? How is this _my _fault?" He almost fell off the chair he was standing on, trying to yank down the wires that were hooked up to said Time Lord machinery. Martha steadied him before he managed to crack his head on the ground.

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

"If you had let me talk with the neighbors _before _we moved in, then we wouldn't be _in _this mess." She shot a glare up at him through her sweaty bangs.

"_Martha_," he said in that _why-are-you-so-ignorant _tone that she _hated_, "we couldn't have let the neighbors see the equipment that we were using in here. Who knows what they would have thought?"

"I was under the impression that you didn't care about what us _silly little humans _thought of you," she sniped.

"I don't." he admitted.

"Well-"

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

"I _do _care about not being lynched though. There were all sorts of superstitions going on during this time period and since we don't have the TARDIS to make a getaway, we need to remain inconspicuous. I do _not _want to get thrown into jail for being a... what was it you humans called it? A comist?"

"Communist," she corrected.

"Right, that." Opening up a wooden panel in the floor, the Doctor placed a few jars of Paluminum Oil and a few broken pieces of the Weeping Angel that transported them here into the hidden compartment below.

You never know if 31 century oil and the body parts of your enemies will come in handy.

"And I'm pretty sure you're thinking of America, Doctor."

"Really?" He stood up from his crouch and patted his coat absently, looking for his sonic screwdriver. "I always keep getting England and the US mixed up. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I-"

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

He shot an irritated look at the door that was doing it's best to break under their neighbors' banging.

"_This_, right here, is why I don't do domestic," he muttered, pushing the bookshelf in front of the secret hole in the wall that held most of their 1960s money.

At first it was just mildly irritating. One of two people would knock on their door, inquire about them, then leave after they didn't hear an answer. At the time there was too much alien technology scattered about and they couldn't risk the chance of discovery. But then more and more people started showing up, staying for longer and longer each time. Some of them even tried to peak through the windows or glance through the key holes. Others were calling out to them through the doorway, trying to get them to come out.

Needless to say, it went from slightly irritating to downright _annoying_.

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

Martha let out a something that sounded like a cross between a snarl and a growl.

"I knew it was customary among humans to introduce themselves to each other, but I never thought that _this _would be the result if you didn't." Humans would always manage to surprise him with how weird they could be. Can coming from a time traveling alien, that's saying something.

"This usually doesn't happen, Doctor," Martha huffed, wiping the sweat off her face as she lugged a suitcase filled with lead bars into the closet.

Seriously. Lead bars. Not gold bars- which would have made more sense- but _lead_.

Martha may not be as smart as the Doctor, but she doesn't see how a bunch of lead bars are gonna fix the timey whimey detector. Why did he even have them in his pockets in the first place? What would be the point?

"Really?" The Doctor poked his head out from the kitchen doorway. "So do you think some sort of toxic compound is causing their sudden shift in behavior? Maybe a physical stimulus that is causing them to act on unwanted thoughts? Or is it a parasite of some sort? I have come across _alot _of alien parasites that could be the cause of this type of thing. There is a certain symbiote on a planet called Yeergasmoso that-"

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

"Doctor, I'm pretty sure they're just curious," Martha interrupted. "After all we just moved in-"

"Lots of people move into new neighborhoods. Never seen the neighbors try to break _their _doors down," he muttered.

"-nobody in town knows who we are or what we look like since you _insisted _on moving in during the night where no one could see us-"

"Well, we couldn't have anyone see us moving all this stuff. They would have asked questions."

"-we've been making all sorts of noise since we moved in-"

"Moving furniture, perfectly normal when humans first move in."

"-we haven't answered the doors or even _left the house _in over a _week_-"

"Not at all that strange. Some humans are known to go their whole lives without leaving their houses. I distinctly remember this one man..." the Doctor trailed off, wandering into the living-room.

"-not to mention that there was no prior warning that we came here; no moving vans, to trucks, no real-estate salesmen. We just _showed up_. Anyone would find that suspicious-"

_**BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! BAM BAM BAM! **_

Martha shot an angry look at the door, her right eye twitching slightly. It seems the banging was finally getting on her last nerve.

"I _swear _to _God_-"

"Done!" The Doctor rushed out from the living-room, his shirt and tie undone and his hair askew. "I'm done."

Martha huffed. "_Finally_. Let's just get this over with."

And with that, the Time Lord and the doctor in training opened the door to welcome their new neighbors.

* * *

><p>The whole block was buzzing. Someone had just moved into the neighborhood and no one knew who it was.<p>

It was all a complete mystery as to who moved into the Welson's old house. No one had lived there for quite some time, and it became a common sight to see the battered "For Sale" sign right in the middle of the yard. After all, not many people were willing to live in a dead person's house, especially one in which the residents died in their sleep.

(Often, the children of Boomdale would dare each other to spend a night in the "haunted" house, spinning stories about ghosts and creatures of the night. They were rubbish of course, but many Boomdale residents would find themselves hesitant to walk past the house during the night.)

So when Beatrice Bringham happened to pass the house on her evening stroll, she was surprised to see the old sign gone. A large sign with the word "Sold" in bright red letters was there instead.

Naturally, the neighbors began to gossip about the new residents. After all, even though it was considered haunted by some, the Welson house was a _very _expensive. The late couple were known to be rich-if a bit haughty- and of refined tastes and stature. (Or, at least, that's what Mrs. Welson would say to the ladies of the neighborhood.) They were certainly not want of money. Someone else buying the house meant that someone just as "well off" was coming to live in their small neighborhood.

Thus, the residents of Boomdale Avenue waited in baited breath for their new neighbors to arrive. And were highly disapointed when no one came.

If it hadn't have been for May Stewart, it was possible that they would have never have found out that the new neighbors had already moved in. There was no movers, no trucks, no well wishers come to say goodbye. There wasn't even a realator, asking how well they enjoyed the house. They just... _appeared_. One minute the house was empty, the next May saw lights go on and shadows move across the windows.

(When asked why she was peaking through their windows, Mrs. Stewart would remain tight-lipped.)

So of course they gossiped some more, especially when their mysterious new neighbors refused to answer the door when well-wishers came to welcome them to the neighborhood. Loud banging noises, as well as high pitched whirring and shouts were all that emerged from the house when people knocked. It was thought that the new neighbors were still too busy settling in for them to answer the door. But then the banging and strange sounds persisted, even well into the night, though they were slightly less pronounced.

Over time, curiosity towards the new neighbors grew. Speculation and gossip ran rapid. Just who _were _these people? Why did they move here? Where were they from? Why didn't they come out of their house? What did they look like? Why was there always banging and strange sounds coming from their home?

When a week went by and the new residents of Boomdale Avenue _still _didn't emerge from their house, curiosity turned into concern. Just _what _was happening up there? Was something wrong? Were they in trouble? Because no matter how much they knocked on the doors or tapped on the windows, they could not get the new neighbors to answer.

Anyone else, upon looking at the situation from an outsider's point of view, would think that the residents of Boomdale were being a bit too nosy-

*coughcoughDoctorandMarthacough*

-toward their new neighbors. But this was mostly due to the fact that Boomdale avenue was out of the way as far as most neighborhoods were concerned. Everyone knew everyone else- much like a small town- and they all cared in their own way since they all grew up surrounded by each other. (Even the Welsons, as snooty as they were, were considered a part of the Boomdale community. Which was why it was so devastating when they died so suddenly.) A new resident was considered a part of the family, a new member they wanted to get to know. And, much like most family members, the residents of Boomdale were not deterred by such common things like _personal boundaries_ or _privacy_.

And it is with that thought that we find a small crowd on the new neighbors' front porch with May Stewart at the front, banging away at the door like no tomorrow.

* * *

><p>Jenny Holmes had expected alot of things when she- along with her friends and respective husbands- knocked on the new neighbors' door.<p>

_This_, however, was not it.

The first thing that caught her eye was the young man. He was a tall, white man who was rather skinny without being unpleasantly so. He had light brown eyes and was wearing glasses. His shirt was undone and ripped in places, showing his (very nice) chest, and his tie was draped over his shoulders. His hair was very messy, almost as if someone had run their hands through it, and his face was very flush. His trousers were hanging low on his hips and his belt was undone.

The next thing that caught her eye was the young, _black _woman next to him. Like the man standing next to her, her hair was also in disarray and lightly covered in sweat, her face equally flush. Her dress was also ripped, allowing the dress to hang off and show her bare shoulder. The dress' bodice was also dangerously low, showing alot more than what was proper.

Both of them were breathing hard, and looked, really, _really _annoyed. As if they were interrupted while doing... _something_.

A quick glance showed that yes, they both had gold bands around their fingers.

Jenny felt her face go hot.

She didn't even have to look in order to see the shocked/embarrassed looks on everyone else's faces. In front of her, she heard May give out a choking sound.

The silence seemed to stretch on forever, each second more awkward and embarrassing than the last.

The black woman mercifully broke it, letting out a huff of irritation. "Can I _help _you?"

May opened her mouth. "Urk."

The man leaned on doorway, crossing his arms and showing off more of his (incredible) chest. "Was there something you needed?" he was a bit more polite than his... than his _wife_.

It's not that Jenny had anything against those of different race. Her mother brought her up with the thought that God created all men and women equal, no matter how they looked or where they came from. Always told her to respect her fellow man, no matter what their color.

And she knew, logically, that there were such things as interracial relationships, people who grew to love each other even though they were of a different race. It was a big world out there, and not everyone would dictate their lives by modern conventions like race.

That being said, such concepts and relationships were rare, and all too new. Which was why she- and the rest of her friends-were still staring at the young couple like a bunch of buffoons.

That, and the fact that they had obviously interrupted them while in the middle of... _something_.

Her husband Mike, bless his soul, finally spoke up in their defense. "Oh... oh hi! Um, no we don't um, need anything. We were just uh... hoping to welcome you into the neighborhood! But uh..." he glanced at them for a second, eyes lingering on the black woman, before abruptly pulling an about face, heading down the porch. He grabbed Jenny by the arm and half guided, half dragged her away.

"Weobviouslycaughtyouatabadtimewe'llbeseeingyoulaterbye!"

The others snapped out of their shock and decided to follow Mike's lead, Jenny too embarrassed to snap at Mike for staring, leaving the young bemused couple behind.

* * *

><p>The Doctor closed the door with a confused frown on his face. He turned to Martha, eyebrow raised. "What do you suppose that was about?"<p>

Martha's brow furrowed. "I-" She paused looking at the Doctor, her eyes roaming up and down his body, her eyes slowly widening and turning red with every second.

A quick check at herself showed that she was in a similar state of dress and she quickly crossed her arms over herself, mortified.

The Doctor looked at her in puzzlement. he took a step towards her. "Martha, what's wrong?"

She looked at him with a face full of disbelief.

"_What_?"

She took an over-exaggerated glance at him, then at herself, and waited for him to get it.

Connecting the dots in 3...

2...

1...

The doctor's face turned bright red.

Huston, we have lift off.

The Doctor turned his back and started buttoning up his shirt, while Martha fixed her dress, neither of them looking each other in the face.

He threw her an embarassed smile over his shoulder.

"So... maybe we _should _have introduced ourselves first."

She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"


End file.
